


After Supper

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Love, Romance, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: A quiet work night ends with love. This one-shot was triggered by an Anon request that fired my imagination. You know who you are. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist and do not profit from writing about it.This story was originally posted at FFnet on November 22, 2014. Now here with refining edits.





	

After a simple and delicious supper, a mere toss by Jane but tasting like art, he got up, paused a moment to take a succulent kiss from Lisbon and then disappeared. Such a normal occurrence, it barely registered in her mind. Probably holed up with a book somewhere since she didn't hear the television.

Drawn by the remembrance of his kiss, she put the finishing touches on kitchen clean up, dried her hands, hung the towel and set out to find him. Feeling the day's grime on her skin, her next stop would be the shower.

Sure enough. He wasn't on the couch and the living room was dark. She popped open the door to what had become his reading room, expecting to find him slouched in the comfy, oversized armchair they had bought for him, their first purchase for the home they now shared. But the room was dark and empty. The bedroom, then.

The silky blouse flowed off her skin like warm water as she pulled it over her head on the way to the bathroom in the master suite. Toeing off her boots at the door, she paused to see if Jane would notice how well her beautiful new bra held her breasts. Maybe he would like to see the matching panties.

On the bed, still in his trousers, toes wiggling at the ends of his shapely bare feet, Jane did not look up. He was relaxing, waistband unfastened and shirttails pulled out. The light on his side of the bed highlighted the head of golden curls, grown shaggy of late, just the way Teresa loved it. Her mouth watered when she saw the rolled-up shirtsleeves, his beautiful arms exposed and their dust of hair glinting like threads of gold. Large graceful hands held a report and a pencil. Those nimble fingers, long and so graceful and straight, were a miracle of nature that had already given her many hours of pleasure!

Jane working after hours? And not a glance at her? It was too early in their quickening relationship for this.

The day's tension flowed away with the hot water and scented foam of her shower. She emerged sweet and sleek, drying, applying moisturizer and then decided that dots of perfume at various pulse points would not go amiss.

In the bedroom, Jane's nose wiggled in absent appreciation as he read and marked.

Teresa emerged from the bathroom, sensual and warm, wearing satin and lace, an emerald green teddy that parted and bared her soft plump labia. It slipped up the cleft of her ass in back, draping high to adorn full, blushing cheeks. The bodice was cut low and loose, inviting the hand to pliant globes of flesh. Her nipples rose as she looked at Patrick, still buried in his report.

"Jane?" she queried softly.

"Hmmmm?" He didn't look up.

"What are you reading?"

"Report . . ."

"Same one from this afternoon?"

"Yes . . . lot of interesting stuff in here."

Silently crossing to the bed, she straddled his thighs first with her arms and then with her knees, looking at the top of his curling hair, her cleavage the next stop for his eyes if he would raise his head. He didn't. She scooted quietly closer, nudging the back of the report with her breasts.

"Be done in a minute . . ."

Rising up, Teresa wedged her lace-kissed breasts over the top edge of the paper and pushed it down. He dropped it to the side.

Patrick's world was suddenly awash with green satin, shifting over the freckled pink flesh of Teresa's aroused breasts, held back only by bands of matching lace. They rolled forward as she moved almost imperceptibly toward him. He managed to shift his eyes to rove the shining green water along her flank, then slanted his gaze to see the deep curves of her hips and naked rump where they drew down to her legs. He reached there, filling his hands lightly as he shaped his hand to her, traveling the always newly explored terrain of her form.

Teresa's breath flowed suddenly warm across his face, scented with mint and arousal, and when his eyes darted to hers, she smiled enticingly. Everything about her bewitched him and he caught her hair in his hands, lightly tugging her face near. Sucking his lips as with a touch like feathers, she backed away still crouched over him. He filled his hands with her breasts, slipping his fingers under the satin. Hard buds of flesh scraped along his palms and he squeezed, forcing another huff of her sweet breath into his face as her hips curved instinctively to him.

Freeing a hand, he let it travel her ribs and belly and guided the other breast to his mouth to savor. She moaned his name and cried out softly as his hand slid into the part of her legs. His fingers found her swelling lips, releasing a low groaning hum from her throat. The hardened flesh between his legs leapt, constrained by his clothing and in the next moment, Teresa's hand was on his trousers, squeezing and feeling his length.

Patrick's mind was pure blue flame. "Put your hands on me, Teresa." Her fingers were already undoing his fly and when she reached in, taking hold and bringing him out, he yelled and sighed as if her hands burned him in ecstasy.

A gush of wet warmth coated his fingers and he lifted to his elbows, bracing a hand on her thigh for leverage. Then he was two fingers inside her, moving aside the tight band of wet satin between her lips as best he could to go deep. She pushed rhythmically onto his fingers but he worked slowly to ease her into a pitch of heat as she handled him with a delicious, increasing fervor. She was losing control. When she moved lower, bending to lick, suck the fleshy head of his erection, he pulled wet fingers to his nose and then into his mouth, closing his eyes to savor his lover's luxurious scent and taste.

When he opened them, she was close to his face, eyes full of dark fire. Attacking his lips with her tongue, she sucked his fingers into her mouth, and didn't register the scent and the taste of herself like he had. But the idea of it burned in her.

Slipping from the bed, she quickly removed his pants and underwear, then climbed on top of him, kissing and touching until they were both desperate to join and the bodice of the teddy pooled at her waist. But the strip of satin in the cleft of her sex thwarted her desperate desire to mount him.

"Raise up and we can slip it off of you."

"No. No. Tear it! Rip it open, Patrick. I can't wait."

He put his hands on her sides, hoping to soothe her. "Shhhhh, shhhh, sweetheart. I like this teddy. I hope to see it again." Smiling and holding her firm, he tried to kiss her but she squirmed away, fretful. He lifted her easily, laying her gently on her back, his hand at her waist to disrobe her, lips at her mouth with cosseting words. This time she let him kiss her, then lifted her hips so he could slip the teddy down her legs to kick away.

Jane's voice turned low, confiding. "I want you right here, Teresa. On your back. With your legs spread wide open for me." He put his hand where he wanted to be, wanted to slide inside her. Heat radiated from her slippery flesh. Bending close, circling her clit with the flat of a couple fingers, he whispered, "Let me."

Teresa grabbed his arms to pull him on top of her and he slid in easily. She was soaking and lustfully aromatic. Something snarled, unfurling inside him. Sitting on his feet, he drew her up, holding her hips in position with his large hands, leaned over and pommeled her, listening to her gasping voice rise rhythmically in the dark. When she broke, she sounded like a child crying alone in the night, so he scooped her into his arms, whispering love until his own ecstasy filled her and he groaned like a broken man. Rolling to his side, clutching her to his chest, the last thing he remembered was her fingers in his hair, saying as she struggled to catch her breath, "I love you. I love you, Patrick."


End file.
